When Ice Thaws
by KatyLynne
Summary: When Elsa sent Hans back to the Southern Isles in a jail cell, it causes something no one expected: war. Two years later, and Elsa is struggling to keep the enemy at bay. But when a mysterious letter arrives, the words inside give her hope that she might gain something she's been missing for almost her whole life, a companion.
1. The Sudden Proposal

**When Ice Thaws**

**Chapter One**

_Elsa's P.O.V_

My feet are about to wear a track into the cold, marble floor, as I worriedly pace. It is quiet in my private study, the only noises the quick shuffle of my feet and the tick of the clock. Usually, my _private _study is bustling with people, from advisors to dignitaries to my sister and her husband. Now, this late in the night, everyone else is in bed, because apparently, they have reason. My eyes burn an icy hole into a neatly folded letter on my desk. I haven't brought myself to even touch it yet; for some reason unbeknown to me, I'm unsettled by it. I just get the feeling that the contents of that letter are going to change my life.

It's been two years since the Winter-in-Summer and the war with the Southern Isles becoming very tiresome. It has been, and appears to always be, a stalemate. Even with my magic and the support of Corona, it's been very difficult for my relatively small kingdom, Arendelle, to keep the vast armies of the Southern Isles at bay.

I didn't start the war. I didn't want it to begin with. But apparently, sending the youngest of thirteen princes back home in a cell didn't sit well with the King of the Southern Isles, even after all the trouble Hans had caused. King Henry wasn't pleased, promptly releasing the dogs of war. And so, we've fought ever since. Too many of my people have been killed, but using my magic, I've managed to keep most of our enemies back.

About Corona, Princess Rapunzel and Prince Eugene had visited Arendelle for my coronation, and after the whole debacle was over, stayed for a while. Anna and Rapunzel were fast friends. It took a little longer for me to feel comfortable enough to actually make _friends, _eventually, Rapunzel and I became friends, also. Eugene and Kristoff have a very strange relationship, even I can see that. Basically, Eugene loves to tease Kristoff about being uncouth, saying things like "how can you expect to remain married to a princess if you can't even string a sentence together," Kristoff threatening to break his legs whenever he did so. But everyone knows they are actually very fond of each other. Our alliances with Corona's royals guaranteed their help.

I'm so, so tired of war. Of the strategy meetings, of not being able to eat without some unfortunate soul trying some first, of being hurried through the streets in case of assassins. War is unsettling, terrifying, and tragic; it leaves everyone involved miserable.

Even the arrival of a new family member isn't enough to console me, every death of my people heavy on my mind. Anna and Kristoff's son, though, is the most perfect being in existence. All bright smiles and cheeky laughs. With big brown eyes, exactly like his father's, and messy red hair, Niko is the most adorable baby in the world. At eight months old, his favourite thing to do is surprise you by suddenly grabbing your trouser leg or skirt from his seated position on the floor and pull himself to his feet, giggling the whole way. In typical parent style, Kristoff is sure that Niko is the male version of Anna, while Anna is adamant that he is the exact replica of his father. Personally, I think Niko is in equal measures a mixture of each.

Niko is the most joy I've experienced in a long time and I love him, but he is not my son. Imagine that, your little sister getting married and having children before you. It's an outrage! But nobody wants to marry the Snow Queen.

At least, that's what I always thought, before a missive from the Southern Isles arrived in secret, late one night.

The thick, creamy off-white parchment is obviously expensive, but it does not carry the King's seal. I should know; I've read many a furious letter from the King, demanding that I relinquish my throne to him. Not likely. But, the writer of the letter must be wealthy.

Should I open it? I don't want to open it. Maybe the enemy has somehow kidnapped my sister or brother-in-law, or worse still, Niko, and is demanding my cooperation. Sigh, in any case, it would be best to open it. Gloveless hands shake as I pick it up, slightly frosting the paper. Strange, I haven't lost this much control since I learnt how to control my powers.

Taking a deep breath, I pull away the seal. _Dear Queen Elsa, _the letter reads in a fair, but masculine hand. _I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I am Prince Oliver, eleventh son of King Henry of the Southern Isles. _At reading this, my hands are itching to throw the letter into the fire without reading another word. I've always been very good at controlling my curiosity. However, the content of the letter may affect Arendelle, in which case it is my duty to read it all. Sucking in another deep breath of the increasingly frosty air, I lay down the parchment on my polished mahogany desk.

_Dear Queen Elsa,_

_I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I am Prince Oliver, eleventh son of King Henry of the Southern Isles. _

_Before you throw this into the fire, please allow me to explain my purpose. My father is at his deathbed, increasing in madness as each day passes. Of my brothers, a few are glad to see him go, especially the eldest, who is chomping at the bit to take the throne. However, he is not the only one. I fear civil war is just around the corner, brother taking arms against brother. This terrifies me. _

_I understand if you do not wish to aid the brother of the one who plotted against you. And I do not attempt to persuade you to help me take the throne of the Southern Isles. Believe me, I do not even want it. My eldest brother will rightfully take the throne; he having been groomed for kingship and holding the support of most of the people. _

_No, I do not propose a coup. I propose a truce between our nations. My people need stability, at least for a short while, before the death of the king and the war between brothers. I want to put an end to the war between the Southern Isles and Arendelle, so that my country can sort out internal disputes without further danger to the common people. _

_I am asking, nay begging, for an outlandish thing, I am aware. I am also trusting you with information that only the closest to the royals in the Southern Isles knows. You could easily exploit these weaknesses to ensure your victory. I am hoping that the rumours of you are true; that you are a kind and merciful queen. Please, show mercy to me and my people. _

_This letter was written and sent without the consent of my father, for in his madness, he does not like to hear a word about truce. All, if any, further correspondence must be conducted in secret. The only kind of arrangement that is able to put an end to this much distrust and anger is marriage, of that, I am sure you are aware. _

_I hope you do not perceive this as an envious prince attempting to higher his position in the world; truly, I only ask this in defence of my people, but…_

_Will you marry me?_

_I make no attempt to try take your throne from you. You may name me as Consort, if you like, with no real power in your kingdom. In this situation, I am at the disadvantage, begging you for help. _

_Do not feel any obligation to say yes, if you do not wish to. But please, consider my proposal._

_Eagerly awaiting your reply and completely at your mercy,_

_Prince Oliver of the Southern Isles, eleventh son of King Henry of the Southern Isles. _

… what? Here I was, complaining about never getting married, then suddenly, I'm proposed to by letter that was delivered by an owl in the night.

I don't know what to make of this. Never, when I first lifted the letter, did I expect this. A prince of an enemy nation, eloquently begging me to call a truce, through marriage.

This is crazy.

And what's even crazier, is that I do find myself considering his proposal.

If he speaks truth, then he is desperate to give his people some time before the death of the king. I may care nothing for the king, for what he put us all through, but the cries of the people of the Southern Isles, I discover I cannot ignore.

Hans, for all his failings, was a handsome man. Except for his nasty sideburns. I think it's safe to assume that Oliver is handsome also. Hoping he doesn't have sideburns. And from his letter, I can see a glimpse of his personality. Proud, but somehow humble. Hans could never, ever write to someone like Oliver did. Hans plays a very convincing nice guy, his affinity for sandwiches very misleading, but this letter can prove very damaging if in the wrong hands. Hans would never put himself in that much of a disadvantage. Oliver did.

That is, assuming that the letter is authentic. It may very well not be.

But, a small light of hope in my cold heart wants it to be true. That I have some way of ending this war that is destroying my people's lives. A queen must always put her people first. And if a way of ending their suffering is to enter into marriage with a stranger, the, so be it. I wouldn't be the first one.

Not all of us can be so lucky as Anna and Rapunzel; finding their true loves at eighteen. For some of us, it is impossible to find. But we must continue. So no man will love me, fine. So I will enter a loveless marriage with a man who is sacrificing himself to me for his people, fine. So I will live a cold, lonely life, fine.

The cold never bothered me, anyway.

...

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**Author's Note: Okay, so well, I seem to have written a Frozen fanfiction. Wasn't expecting that one. I only watched the movie a few days ago, with some friends. And I really enjoyed it. Anna and Kristoff was the cutest thing. **

**Honestly, I enjoyed Tangled a bit more. Probably because I love Eugene. Which is why, having seen Rapunzel and Eugene's cameo in Frozen, I just had to include them in the story. Expect to see some more of them. However, I haven't gotten around to writing anything for Tangled yet, but this little Frozen plot bunny just wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote it. And, what's more, I'm actually liking where it's going. I hope you like it, too. If you've read one of my other stories, you'll see I quite like the effect of an arranged marriage on the characters involved. And I just felt so bad for Elsa; nothing really seemed to go her way.**

**If this gets a good reaction, I'll consider writing another, this one based on my favourite line from the movie, "… like a valiant, pungent, reindeer king!" That one will be more Anna/Kristoff based than this one. While this story will involve a bit of Anna and Kristoff, it will remain mainly Elsa. **

**Anyway, I hope you like it! Please review/follow/favourite, whatever you'd like. I love to hear feedback; if you think of ways I can improve as a writer, don't hesitate to tell me. One thing that you'll quickly learn about me if you decide to stick with the story is that I love to write long Author's Notes, I just love to chat with readers. But I always put them at the end, so you don't strictly **_**have**_** to read them. Please do though, because I occasionally do random stuff like hold competitions. **

**Thanks for reading down to the bottom, have a great day!**

**KatyLynne **


	2. Sickness in the Night

**When Ice Thaws**

**Chapter Two**

_Elsa's P.O.V_

So consumed by my thoughts, considering the pros and cons of marrying a man I have never met and could very likely only be out for his own personal gain, I didn't hear the door open and someone slip into the room. Almost jumping out of my skin when a small, warm hand touches my forearm, I turn to find Anna. Her red hair is pulled up into a messy bun, lids sleepily half-shut. Carrying a grumpy Niko in her arms, she stares at me in tired confusion.

"Elsa? What are you still doing up?"

Oh, crap. Think of something, Elsa! She can't know about this; after two years and she's still nowhere near being able to forgive Hans for what he did. I can't imagine what she'd say about his brother proposing to me by secret mail. Well, actually, I can. _Don't be stupid, Elsa. He's just using you like Hans used me. _Yeah, something like that. Attempting to subtly hide the letter behind my back, I flash Anna a massive and hopefully innocent smile.

"Nothing! Just looking over some strategies."

Her crystalline blue eyes narrow in suspicion. Oh, crap.

"Well, what are _you _doing up?" I deflect, hoping that she'll forget about it all once I got that mouth of hers going. The woman could chatter off the hooves of a reindeer.

"Niko wouldn't sleep," she replies, her eyes still in speculating slits. "Walking with him makes him sleepy. I think Kristoff let him sleep to long while we were in the meeting this afternoon."

Hiding my worry about her discovering that I'm trying to keep something out of her sight with laughter, I retort.

"Blaming any problems on the father, a solid way to absolve any guilt."

"What?" Anna's face burns in anger, almost as red as her hair. I must've said _something _wrong. I just have no clue as to what that will be. By the way her mouth is starting to gape open like a fish, I suspect that she's about to tell me. Very firmly and self-righteously.

"You think this is _my _fault? That I'm just trying to disguise my worry that Niko is sick by blaming Kristoff? Well, you're wrong! Niko is fine, and if he isn't, it's Kristoff's fault!"

"Oh, Anna." Smiling sympathetically, I reach out the hand not holding the letter out to offer her some comfort. She doesn't take it, leaving my hand stretched out awkwardly between us. She must really be upset. "I'm sure Niko is fine, sister."

Niko, silent through this whole debacle, coughs. Finally, I think to actually look at him. The poor baby's nose is red, his eyelids wearily half-shut and has tears slowly falling down his cheeks. I am such a selfish creature. So consumed was I in my own secrets and intrigues that I didn't take any notice of my suffering nephew. Anna, the protective mother that she is, has bundled him all up in blankets in winter clothing, even though it is currently midsummer. Anything to help, I guess.

"He isn't fine," Anna says quietly, defeat heavy in her voice. "And I don't know what to do."

"Anna?" The sleepy voice comes from the doorway. "I woke up and you weren't there… what's going on?"

"Kristoff!" Faster than Sven, Anna sprints into Kristoff's arms. Moments ago, he was her scapegoat for Niko's sickness, but as soon as she saw him, he became her support and she needed him. Taking wife and son into his arms, he drowsily kisses the top of Anna's head.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"Oh, Kristoff! It's Niko; he's sick." Suddenly wide awake, he lifts a hand and places it on Niko's forehead. Face settling into slight panic, he takes Niko from Anna and strides out of the room, taking her hand and tugging her along.

"We have to take him to my family; they'll know what to do."

"But, Kristoff-"

"Nothing! We need to go now."

"But, you're not dressed!"

Kristoff screeches to a halt. From where I'm standing, shocked at the events that have so quickly taken place, I can see him look down at himself in embarrassment. Shirtless, bootless and only wearing loose trousers, he's not dressed appropriately for travelling. I'm pretty sure that he personally doesn't care very much, but Anna does. Even though they are in a rush and Kristoff is a big, strong man, with Niko sick, she's probably getting paranoid that Kristoff will get sick too. It may be summer, but in the Snow Queen's kingdom, it never gets tropical. At night, it is still cold. I'm sure Anna really couldn't handle both of the men in her life falling sick.

Passing Niko back to Anna, he runs down the hall to the room he and my sister shares. Barely thirty seconds pass before he's back, and they leave in a rush of heavy coats and comforting noises to each other and their son.

And I'm left just standing there, wondering what the Olaf just happened. All that, and not even ten minutes had gone by. It's insane, how those two are just a storm of energy, there on second and gone the next.

But in a sick, self-absorbed way, I'm glad they are gone. In all the hurry and confusion, Anna had completely forgot about her suspicions as to why I'm awake so late. She had no idea of what I was hiding behind my back. Being as relived as I am, but still worried about Niko, I continue to pace, exactly like I was I before I had even read the letter.

Worry for Niko and my people is still on my mind, but now, I am predominately thinking about how I'm going to reply to this letter. Do I _want_ to marry this guy? Well, no, truthfully, not really. Do I really have a choice? Again, not really. I want this war over! I want it finished, done. And perhaps the best way to do that is to marry a Prince of the Southern Isles. Well, as long as it isn't Hans. But, is this Oliver person any better? Sure, his eloquence in his letter speaks of a true desire to help his people. However, it is easy to lie in a letter.

Then that's my answer. I really can't agree to marry this guy until after I've met him, so I can justly judge him and his intentions.

Relief at making my decision was a load off my back.

Moving quickly now, I sit at my spacious writing desk, eagerly dipping my quill into ink and stretching out a roll of thick, creamy white parchment. As I put my quill to paper, I realise I have another problem.

What do I say?

How can I phrase my words to give the least offense?

Shrugging my shoulders, I discover I really don't care if I offend him, I write.

_Dear Prince Oliver of the Southern Isles,_

_Yes, I am of good health, thank you for your query. Also hoping to find the receiver of this letter in such a state, I write to address the issue of our marriage._

_Put simply, I am currently in a situation where I cannot make the best decision possible. I do not know you, and all I have to base you on is your brother and his actions, both of which do not bode well for you. But, I am willing to consider such a proposal. I have a condition, however, and that is that you must travel here so I can meet you and deem if you are fit to become my husband. _

_I feel sympathy for your situation, but must be honest in that I feel nothing for your father. Even at his peak, the man was a tyrant and I cannot say that I will miss him when he departs from this world. _

_If I decide that I will marry you, you will be crowned king in name only. I will rule my kingdom and you will have no power in it except for that I choose to give you. I am aware that this puts you at a disadvantage, but I find that after your brother, I cannot trust in the schemes of the sons of King Henry. Therefore, if you are to have any chance at peace, you will agree to my terms with little negotiation on this part. Other points to be brought up will be discussed upon our meeting. _

_If it suits you, I look forward to your arrival. If you decide that this is not what you want, please reply as soon as you possibly can. _

_Sincerely,_

_Queen Elsa of Arendelle. _

There! That sounds properly haughty and dispassionate. Blowing sand gently over the ink, I impatiently wait for it to dry, before placing it in an envelope. I lock it in my bottom most drawer, as well as Oliver's letter, ready to be sent in the morning.

Now, finally, I can sleep.

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**Katy's note: Hey, all! Wow, I'm pretty excited about how many alerts/favourites this fanfiction got, considering it's only had a hundred views, so thank you for that! **

**Anna and Kristoff made an appearance, arriving suddenly and disappearing quickly, as only they can do. Don't worry about Niko, Bulda and Grand Pabbie will fix him right up!**

**Thank you to Hurricane Jackson for reviewing, and here is your update!**

**Okay, people, have a fantastic day!**

**KatyLynne.**


	3. A King in Name Only

**When Ice Thaws**

**Chapter Three – A King in Name Only**

_Oliver's P.O.V_

A king in name only. Turns out she does have mercy. While the title of Prince Consort would probably be enough to give me respect among her people, I know that my brothers would consider it shameful, like I'm Queen Elsa's pet. I honestly couldn't care so much about that, if it weren't that one of them will be king someday, and I want to stop the war. None of them would listen to a 'Prince Consort.' My brothers are not bad men; the worst in terms of selfishness and greed would be Hans, the youngest. But honour is very important to them (well, except for Hans) and to them there would be nothing honourable about being Prince Consort.

And even still, I'm not sure how I feel about this marriage. I've never met Queen Elsa, and though I'm told she's very beautiful, her powers sound somewhat intimidating. I mean, I'm trained in different kinds of fighting; you have to be, with as many brothers as I have, and you have to be good at it too. But what use is that against a woman who can freeze you still with a twitch of her finger?

The only reason Arendelle wasn't taken by my father two years ago because of one, they had the aid of Corona; and two, because of Elsa's magic. She would create ice monsters that would rip through the charging armies, cause our camps to get extremely cold, would freeze the fiord whenever our ships got too close. Queen Elsa is an unstoppable force. And I was dumb enough to ask her to become my wife? Good lord, I'm a moron.

I wasn't aware I had actually _said _that until Michael just had to take advantage.

"We know, dear brother. At a family conference that you weren't invited to, we decided that your special talents, the ones that distinguish you from any other brother, was your tendency toward the stupid and your overly dry wit."

"Why, thank you, Mikey-Bear. And here I thought I was only here to raise the families IQ," I reply in a voice so utterly grateful, that it would only prove one of his statements; either I was incredibly stupid, or I was incredibly sarcastic. Personally, I prefer the latter.

"See, this is exactly what I was talking about. You're too sardonic for your own good."

"Nonsense. There's no such thing as too much sarcasm. When did you come in here, anyway?" Michael, the fourth son, was the sneak in our family. He's always been the shortest (I was taller than him when I was ten and he was eighteen. I'm currently twenty-three to his thirty-one.) Mikey was also always really thin. Most of the sons of King Henry are brawny. We often just didn't notice him, something he often took advantage of to learn all our secrets. I don't like him overly much.

"While you were still perusing that letter in your hands." Oh, by Loki's buttocks! Damn! Damn, damn, damn. If he read it over my shoulder, I'm dead. I so don't want to die yet! I haven't even lived. I've never seen a snowman sing, or have been chased by wolves, or even climb a mountain. Those are all things, while to you must seem insanely random, I've always wanted to do. Well, maybe not so much the snowman singing; I have no idea where _that _came from. Meh. In any case, I'm so not ready to die!

Attempting to play it off cool, as it's never wise to show a brother panic, I shrug my shoulders in a 'so what?' or roundabout gesture.

"However," he continues with an evil smirk after some hesitation. "I wasn't able to gleam anything from over your shoulder before you starting mumbling about how dumb you were, and you could resist taking a jab at that, right?"

Oh, good. That's good. Running a hand through my auburn hair, I swallow my sigh of relief. Well, actually, swallowing a sigh sounds painful. Running a hand through my auburn hair, I _hold back _my sigh of relief. If he commented instead of reading, it means that Michael didn't think it was important. Or it means he's lying. I'd bet on the former, because though Michael's sneaky, he never was a good liar. Though, I guess that's all relative. Because Hans' skill in lying makes any thief look inept. So, we've all gotten very good at discerning the truth.

"You would've been bored anyway, brother."

"Oh? Then, why were you calling yourself a moron?"

Thinking quickly, I try to emulate Hans and his ability to bullshit. "Because I just lost a fair bit of gold on a bad investment."

Making that weird sympathetic sucking-on-teeth sound, you know the one, Michael buys it.

"How much?"

"At least five ingots- look, I really don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough. I've leave you to mourn in peace," then with a swish of his cape and turn of his boot, Michael walked out of the door.

Listening to his fading footsteps down the hall, I scan through the letter again.

_Put simply, I am currently in a situation where I cannot make the best decision possible. I do not know you, and all I have to base you on is your brother and his actions, both of which do not bode well for you. But, I am willing to consider such a proposal. I have a condition, however, and that is that you must travel here so I can meet you and deem if you are fit to become my husband._

So I have go meet her. Fantastic. She clearly states that she won't agree to marry me unless I travel to her and we meet first. Honestly, I wouldn't mind the journey. The castle has become a bit stuffy of late. You know, with the usual things, your father's mad ravings, your younger brother being a nuisance by causing a war, your other brothers jockeying for positions to talk the throne. So yeah, the little issues that everyone has to deal with.

A small holiday will do me good. But first, I have to come up with a good lie. A reason to leave. My father doesn't really matter; he barely recognises me, so my disappearance won't affect him much. But Jonathan, the eldest of thirteen, will want to know where I'm going. I want Jonathan to be king, he is the most prepared and deserving of it. He will be a good king. But, with other brothers rallying against him, he's going to want to know where I am, where all of us are, at all times. It doesn't matter that we're fond of each other. It doesn't matter that he pretty much raised me. I'm a threat, and even though I try to convince him that I don't want to be king of the Southern Isles, I will remain to be a threat until the second that crown sits upon his head.

But for now, I need an excuse. Something he'll believe.

Locking Elsa's letter in the drawer in my desk, I leave my office. 'Office' being a light term. I actually don't do very much work. My father has men and my five older brothers doing all the work to run the kingdom; my help is not needed. But, somehow, I feel like I actually care about the people, a thousand times more than any of my brothers.

For all that I'm called sarcastic, I'm really only like that with my brothers and courtiers. The bluebloods. But with normal people, the farmers, the merchants, the soldiers, I am always friendly. I know most of the townspeople in the capital city by name and I greet them during my daily walks. Never really feeling close to any of my brothers but Jonathan, I would leave the castle, because Jono would always be too busy to play with me. I spent my time with the normal people, the ones my family snub their noses at. And they love me. Perhaps that's why Jono considers me a threat; I'm closer to the people than he, or any king before him, ever was. And it's because I know these people that I have to marry Elsa, to protect them. To give them a tiny bit of stability before civil war.

As I grew older, I spent less time with the townsfolk, being dragged into lessons. I excelled at anything I was taught, naturally, but I missed them.

Feet moving quickly over the cold, grey stone beneath them, I make my way to Jonathan's office, formulating a plan as I do. Really, it's Jono's approval that I need before leaving, not the King's. No doubt, Jono will inform him of it during their nightly discussion. More like crazed statements and cool logic, but Jono likes to call it a discussion. Pushing open the door with no thought as to whether Jonathan would have company, I quite rudely interrupt a moment between him and his wife, Vanessa.

"Oliver? Why don't you ever knock?" Jonathan demands, removing his hands from his wife's bare… feet! Because he was giving her a foot rub.

"Um, sorry, but I need to talk to you."

"This had better not be you wanting money, Oliver, because I'm not bailing you out." With a brisk nod to her general direction, Vanessa gets the hint, slipping on her shoes, climbing off his desk chair and leaving the room. Jonathan stands from his kneeling position on the floor, rolling his broad shoulders. In a slump, he falls onto his chair, raising an eyebrow inquisitively and looking bored at the same time. That's quite a talent, actually.

"How did you-… oh. Michael's already got the word out?" The man was such a gossip.

"Of course."

"Huh. Well, partly, I do want to talk to you about that, but it isn't to ask for money."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want your permission to leave the Southern Isles."

"I'm not the King yet, Oliver. You must ask Father."

Snorting out a laugh, I give him a you-cannot-be-serious look. "_Father _is too busy fighting off fairies and elves to listen to me for a second. He only recognises you now, Jonathan."

"I don't know what you expect me to do."

"We all know you are the king now, just not yet in name." Rather ironic, considering I'm seeking to become the exact opposite. "Your opinion is the only one that matters. And so, I want your approval."

"Why do you want to leave? You know it isn't exactly safe with the Ice Queen out on the loose. You could be killed."

"Who would care? I'm the eleventh son, I have next to no importance." Even I'm pained at how dry my tone is. "I just want to get my gold back from the vagabond that cheated me. I know he's in one of the neighbouring kingdoms. I just need to find him."

"I see." Getting to his feet, my tired older brother makes his way over to me. "Go then, and may Odin protect you. And just for the record, I would care." Jonathan smiles a tiny smile, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing for a second, before leaving me standing alone in his messy office.

Did he just give me permission? Yes, I do believe he did. Rushing, but majestically, I go back to my office to make preparations for departure. It's a good thing that I own a ship that carries no symbol to suggest that it comes from the Southern Isles. And that the captain of said ship, and the whole crew, are friends from my childhood and would never betray me. Barely an afterthought, I think to write back to Elsa, to let her know of my eminent arrival.

_Dear Queen Elsa,_

_I am well, thank you. I want to thank you for replying so quickly, so I shall. Thank you, for replying so quickly. Your terms seem fair, and I understand your hesitation at agreeing to my proposal before our meeting. Honestly, even though I suggested the match, I find myself growing nervous. You are a powerful woman, respected and cherished among her people. And I am just the eleventh son of an insane, tyrannical king. _

_I am honoured that you would even consider to crown me king, as I was expecting to be named Prince Consort, if we were to be married. The title king, in truth, would give me a better chance of convincing my brothers of peace. I respect that it is to be in name only. It is your kingdom, and it should remain such. _

_I am also tired of writing so formally and starting every paragraph with 'I am.' I realise that it's risky, but I also feel that you'd be able to see me, more of what I'm actually like, if I just drop the formalities. So, hi! I'm Oliver. You can call me Olly. Well, actually, you can't. No one, and I mean no one, does. Does anyone call you Elly? I'm not sure why I think it's important, but as I sit and write this, I find it incredibly so. _

_When I said I was dropping formalities, I really meant it. I even started a paragraph with something other than 'I am.' And now you probably just think I'm a goofball. Which, in all honestly, is partially true. _

_Moving on to more important things, I will be arriving, hopefully, in Arendelle four days after the arrival of this letter. My ship will be unmarked with any Southern Isles symbol, and will be flying a sea-blue flag, so that you know what ship I'm talking about. _

_Hoping to find you in great health,_

_Prince Oliver, the eleventh and ridiculous son of King Henry of the Southern Isles. _

Before thinking better of it, I brush sand over the letter and send it on its way. Then, with great relish, I start to get my affairs in order.

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**Katy's Note: Wow, guys! This grew in popularity so quickly, I was (and still am) amazed. Thank you so much! I hope you all liked Oliver. I found his character a bit difficult to write; one part sarcastic the other chatty and silly. He's an oddball, for sure. Please review, I LOVE reviews. Reviews can be anything, questions, feedback, or just to tell me you liked the chapter. I especially love it when readers tell me their favourite part of a chapter. Thank you for all the reviews I already have, they mean a lot. Oh, and **_Io's Torment _**I hope I answered any questions about why I decided Oliver would be king in name only. **

**Have a great day, and don't forget to review!**

**Katy. **


	4. Upon the High Seas

**When Ice Thaws**

**Chapter Four- Upon the High Seas**

_Elsa's P.O.V_

He's coming here. He's actually coming _here? _The letter shakes in my hands, and my knees give out before I realise it. Luckily, I was standing in front of my big, leather office chair and I gracefully sink into it. Sighing, I cross my arms on the desk in front of me and throw my forehead down. Dear Odin, I never actually thought he would _agree! _I thought, that when faced with an actual chance to marry me, he would balk and I wouldn't have to go through with it. Now, he's coming here!

Oh, what am I going to do?

Blood pounding in my temples, I lift my head, rubbing my forehead. Deciding that my hair is pulled back too hard into the strict bun sitting just above my head, I hurriedly undo the heavily jewelled pins, dropping them without ceremony onto the polished wood. Running my fingers through my now loose locks, I sigh in relief at the release of pressure. My headache begins to ease, making it easier to think.

So, he's coming here. Since I dared him to do such a thing, I can't really complain about it. I'll have t talk to him, but how? I don't have that much experience about talking to young men; especially in a romantic sense. How am I supposed to talk my possible fiancé?

Anna will know how to talk to men. She's married, for Odin's sake. I should go talk to her. Can I talk to her about this? She won't approve. After all, it was she who was most hurt by the Prince of the Southern Isles; even now, she is highly distrustful of anyone from the Southern Isles, something that wasn't helped by the war. It would make her furious if I told her I was even considering this.

However, I have to talk to _someone. _I have absolutely no experience with these kinds of situations. Enough wallowing! I made this bed, and now I must lie in it. Standing, determination making my spine straight and my shoulders squared, I leave the room in search of my younger sister.

_Oliver's P.O.V_

I don't feel so good.

Groaning, I lean over the edge of my very uncomfortable cot, expelling, or at least _trying _to expel the last of the content of my stomach. Why oh why didn't I consider if I would get seasick before saying I would travel to meet Elly? I surely am a nincompoop. And I'm hating every second. Travelling is really tough on the body, I have to say. A quiet but firm knock on the door interrupts my suffering.

"My lord?" Jefferson, my manservant, calls through the door. "Are you alright?"

"No!" I call back weakly. "How much longer will this journey take? We should be almost there, right?"

After a slight hesitation, Jefferson replies. "Uh, sir, we haven't left the harbour yet. We're still in the Southern Isles."

Oh, dear sweet Odin, save me!

…

A few days later, and I'm feeling right as rain. Of a sort. I'm able to eat again, and am used to the constant rocking of the ship. So physically, I'm fine. More than fine, really. Jefferson suggested helping out on deck to help cure my nausea, and so far, it has been helping. Working on a ship is a lot different to any other labour I've done. All of the sons of King Henry had to go through combat training- learning swordsmanship and that sort of thing- and some of us were better than it than others. I'm proud to say that out of all my twelve brothers, I am the best with a sword, and second best with daggers. I have a lithe musculature that makes me quick. Jonathan is unbeatable with an axe in his hand, however. But this kind of labour makes you use muscles you don't really strengthen with sword fighting. I'm feeling stronger than ever now.

But my head is still a mess.

Gods, I bloody _suggested _this marriage. I can't be having these second thoughts now! Besides, it's not even certain that we _will _marry. For all I know, she may not like me, refuse the marriage, and send me on my arse home to continue the war in peace! Okay, that's ridiculous. How can you war in peace?

And, of course she'll like me. How could she not? I'm handsome and strong and brave. Wait, am I any of those things?

Handsome, so I've been told. As a prince, I was often unwillingly dragged to stupid balls by my mother in order to find a wife. My mother, Isabelle, is a tired woman (who wouldn't be after thirteen sons and a madman for a husband), but her major goal in life has not yet been achieved: to get all of her sons married. Truthfully, she's doing pretty well for a woman at 50; to have a son at fifteen and to continue having sons for the next fifteen years, she's lasting pretty well. Honestly, I respect my mother. It takes a special kind of strength to survive all she's been through. That doesn't mean I'm particularly fond of her constant match-making. Anyway, and I know my point was in here somewhere, at these balls I'm bombarded with compliments about how good looking I turned out to be from the little boy always covered in mud from his adventures in the farmland. From any lady between the ages of 15 to 65. Trust me, those old birds just love to tell you how surprised they are that you actually turned out to be a decent young man and that they had almost given up hope after your few years as horny teenager.

Now slightly disturbed from those memories of wrinkled winks, I move on to my next point, hoping to have to do less explaining for this one. Strong, wasn't it? Well, good! I have already explained this one. Trained in combat, best swordsmanship, working on deck, etcetera, etcetera. Moving on.

Brave. Well, I certainly hope so. Does travelling away from you home to a place that you're currently at war with in order to marry a queen that could easily kill you with her magical ice powers that just _need _to be sung about, count as brave? Sounds more like stupid to me. Oh, gods. I really didn't think this through, did I? And she doesn't even have to kill me. I've basically delivered myself into her hands; all she has to do is capture me and hold me to ransom.

So not brave, then. Just tremendously stupid. Unbelievably stupid. Immensely stupid. Incalculably stupid. I've run out of words to describe just how stupid. Now stupid sounds weird, I've thought it too many times. Stupid. _Stupid. _

And now I probably just look like and imbecile to all these sailors, staring at the deck with a little smile on my lips because I thought of the word stupid too many times. When will I ever have a normal thought pattern?

I'm very good at proving my own points.

But honestly, I didn't really think this through. I'm giving all the power to Queen Elsa. Thoughts of the innocent townspeople being sent to a war that they didn't want, that my selfish brother and my insane father started. I have to do this for them. Because they never asked for this, yet they are the ones who have to suffer. So yes, I'll give myself to the Snow Queen if that meant saving the lives of as many of the common folk of my country as possible. Does that make me brave?

I don't know.

Does it matter?

I don' know.

"My lord?" Jefferson pulls me out of my convoluted and twisty thoughts. "Is anything troubling you?"

"Huh? No, no. Thank you, though." I turn my attention to the sea, stunning and blue in the bright yellow sun. The suns warmth does nothing to warm me. Just when I think that I truly understand what I'm doing, some little fraction of a thought hits me and forces me to realise something new about what I'm actually doing. Essentially, I'm giving my life to a woman who could crush me like a bug to try save the lives of others. And I think, finally, I'll be able to live with that. As long as I'm doing what I'm doing for others, then I can be in peace about it. Is that bravery? I think so.

"Sir?" Jefferson snaps me out of it again. "You have always been the kindest master of the royal family and treat even the most common of folk with respect. With all due respect, would you please tell me where we are actually going?"

I turn and grin at the greying forty year old. "I can't believe I haven't told you yet." Then, leaning in close, I whisper my plan to him, watching his eyes widen in disbelief.

"Are you mad?!" He shouts at me, drawing the eyes of twenty sailors.

"Jefferson, keep your voice down," I hiss at him. I can tell that he's about to say more, but a yell from the bilge rat in the crow's nest shuts his mouth for another moment.

"A ship flying Corona's colours from the eastern bow!"

Oh, great.

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**Katy's Note: Hey guys! I'm so sooo sorry that I've taken so long to update. I've been really hectic since I've just started my last year of high school and so have been swamped with all the getting back into school business. I huge thank you to everyone who has followed/favourite WIT, it means so much to me. This story has grown in popularity so quickly that I was amazed. I know that it isn't very much for some writers, but it's the biggest response I've gotten so fair in terms of writing and I'm very, very grateful. **

**A special thank you to everyone who reviewed! I read and treasure every single one; they mean a lot too me. Don't be afraid to give me feedback/advice, or even just to say you liked the chapter. If you didn't like it, please review and tell me why. Thank you! **

**I really hope you like this chapter, it took a bit of work for me to write it. Have a fantastic day and don't forget that pretty yellow button. Bye!**

**Katy. **


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